


imitation christ

by tgrsndshrks



Category: Marilyn Manson (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blasphemy, Christianity, Dom/sub, M/M, Religion Kink, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Spanking, i can't fucking believe i wrote this shit, that disposable teens archbishop robe, the bible as a sex toy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-19 08:02:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5959975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tgrsndshrks/pseuds/tgrsndshrks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Brian leans down to speak in his ear again. “Does reading bible verses in front of the archbishop make the little altar boy nervous?” he whispers teasingly.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>or, brian's really sick of religious bullshit today and john's just in the wrong place at the wrong time. or the right place at the right time, depending on your angle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	imitation christ

**Author's Note:**

  * For [littlenymphets](https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlenymphets/gifts).



> please never look at me again. i'm going to die. bury me with my makeup and all my mcr cds.
> 
> this is another one that came from an rp zahra and i did. she is an enabler. she also understands my need for bottom john.
> 
> so uh, this is fucking offensive. seriously. it sexualizes a ton of religious stuff, like prayer and the bible and just. if you're religious i would probably advise against reading this. because it's offensive. i think tomorrow is ash wednesday too. yikes. anyway if you don't listen to me and then you read this and get offended do both you and me a favor and don't leave some pissed off comment. save yourself the blood pressure spike.
> 
> anyway, title from the love song by manson, shout out to zahra for being the best/worst

Brian has dealt with far too much religious bullshit today. 

They barely made it to this date of the tour because of some fucking petition to keep them out of the state, and on top of that there was what seemed like half the city protesting. He doesn't even feel like getting drunk. He's switched roomies with Ginger just so he can get some goddamn sleep and not have to listen to Twiggy bounce off the hotel room walls. Brian's dragging his bag down the hallway, the archbishop robe still thrown over his shoulder from when he'd worn it to fuck with a particularly angry bunch of protestors. He tries the key card once, flips it over, then flips it back over again before it works. When he sees John sitting on the bed by the window, idly flicking through the hotel copy of the bible, Brian almost considers swapping back with Ginger.

“Get that fucking book out of my face,” Brian says, throwing the robe and his bag on the empty bed. “What are you even reading that bullshit for anyway?” John peers up from the book, looking at Brian, who is not Ginger, and quickly figures they must've swapped. He looks back to the page. 

“Just reading it 'cause there's nothing else to do,” John says, turning the page. Brian just looks at him.

“Honestly, I've dealt with enough religious bullshit today,” he says sharply. “I'll give you one of my books if you want to read. I can't even look at that goddamn cover without getting irritated.” He opens his bag, starts digging for a book, then remembers they're all on the bus. “Fuck.” At least John's had to sense to rent a half decent movie, he figures. As long as his ex doesn't show up on the television, he'll tolerate it.

“Then don't look at it?” John asks, putting it down in his lap and finally actually looking at Brian, who's so tightly wound he's practically vibrating. “What the fuck happened?” he asks. Brian crosses his arms tensely, aggressively trying to look at anything but John.

“Well, first of all, the governor and half the state tried to keep us from playing tonight,” he says to some landscape painting over his bed. He'll probably smash that later. “Then, some shitty church was outside with their signs that said a bunch of shit like _god hates fags_ and that I'm a _fag enabler_. Apparently they think you're a woman as well, by the way. When I went out in this-” he picks up the archbishop robe “-to go piss them off some more, they started railing me about how the fact that I grab my 'female guitarist's' tits during shows is leaving an inappropriate impression on the poor youth.” He pauses. “Their words, not mine. Or maybe they're doubly stupid and think Twiggy's a girl and the guitarist.” John snorts a laugh.

“He has his dick out half the time and they think he's a girl,” he says. “Just don’t let them get to you, I guess. You’ve got a fuckin’ army behind your back.” He pauses to glance down at the bible on his lap, and grins as he reads, “My dear brothers and sisters, stand firm. Let nothing move you. Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord, because you know that your labor in the Lord is not in vain.”

Brian just stares at the tree painting, feeling his jaw clench. Instead of snapping at him like he normally would, he just grabs the robe and pulls it on, fastening it over his t-shirt. He goes over to John and takes the bible from his hands, shuffling through a few pages. 

“You have heard that it was said, 'Love your neighbor and hate your enemy,'” he reads, holding his other hand up as if he's actually preaching to a congregation. “But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your Father in heaven. He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous.” Brian snorts a laugh. “Well, Matthew, I think you're full of shit.” He carefully rips the page out and crumples it in his fist. “Open your mouth,” he tells John. When he just eyes him, Brian gestures to his mouth. “No, seriously. Open your mouth.”

“Why,” John goes to say, but once his mouth is open Brian shoves the wadded up paper into his mouth. John doesn't spit it out, just furrows his brow when Brian shushes him.

“Shush,” Brian says, tearing out another page from the book of Matthew and shoving it in John's mouth. “Are you gonna be a good little altar boy for me or are you gonna make this more difficult than it has to be?” He grins, already knowing John's weakness. He knew it from the second he watched his audition tape three years ago. He rips out a third page, adding to the first two, just to make sure John's mouth is occupied. “Now, where's that dickhead Leviticus,” Brian mumbles to himself, flicking through the chapters. He tilts his head, dragging a long finger down the page. “Ah, here we go. Punishments for sin.” He spares John a glance. He's listening. “It says here, Leviticus 20:13, if a man has sexual relations with a man as one does with a woman, both of them have done what is detestable. So I guess you gotta be punished for sucking my dick that one time. It says down here you should be punished seven times over.” Brian shrugs casually, snapping the book shut. “Better turn over so I can give you your punishment, then.”

John looks at Brian for a long moment, as if he's repeating that over in his head to make sure he heard correctly. Slowly, carefully, John turns himself over, visibly struggling to swallow with all the paper in his mouth. Brian can't help a quiet laugh.

“You're being quite the good altar boy, John,” he says, turning the book over in his hands. “You can count to seven, right? And don't spit those pages out. Count.” Brian holds the book by the bottom corners and gives it a good swing, smacking it into the roundest part of John's ass through his jeans. Brian knows John well enough that he can't even deny to him that he loves getting spanked. Hell, he held him down while some band slut beat him with his own belt last week.

“One,” says John, voice muffled through the crinkle of the ever-wetting paper in his mouth.

Brian hits him twice more, the book giving a nice heavy thud that he's pretty sure must feel good. Once John's counted both, Brian reaches under him to undo his belt and he pulls his jeans and his underwear down. He wants some good leather binding to skin contact. Brian gives a good swing and it smacks loudly against the bare skin. When John counts that one, he drools a little, stringing down onto the ugly hotel comforter.

“Spit that shit out,” Brian says. “That probably tastes disgusting.” He spanks him with the book three more times, letting John count them with an empty mouth this time. Brian tosses the book onto the bed, digging his fingernails into the red flush of John's skin and scraping. “Do you think that was enough punishment to be absolved of your sins, or are you still a dirty little altar boy?” he asks, flattening himself over John's body and speaking quietly in his ear. He drags his fingers up John's ribs and grins when he shivers under him. “And don't get that answer wrong, because we both know what's true.”

“I'm still a dirty little altar boy,” John says quietly, the words practically having to be forced out of him. He presses his body back into Brian's, feeling how hard he is under the archbishop robes and his leather pants. John shudders again, spine arching again as Brian's nails go back down his sides. Brian's hands are all over John, brushing the hair from his eyes, a hand loosely curling long fingers around his neck. 

“How do you think you should be punished?” Brian asks, holding John's throat, not quite tight enough to choke.

“Fuck me,” John says, swallowing thickly. “Please.”

“I don't know,” Brian sighs, pretending to think about it. “I don't know if you've really earned my cock yet.” He grabs the bible and tosses it in front of John. “Find a passage and start reading it. And don't fuck up.”

John picks up the book, sitting back on his heels carefully, not wanting to put too much of his weight on his sore ass. The book hasn't left any defined marks, just a very pretty flush of red, but it's heavy enough to cause some pretty good bruises to come up tomorrow. Brian gets up, leaving John to read aloud. He starts well enough, reading slowly and carefully as Brian goes through his bag for lube, but once Brian's behind him again and he hears the cap come off the bottle, he starts stumbling over his words. He loses his place when he hears the button fly of Brian's pants popping open, and then again when he hears the slick of lube behind him. Brian sighs disapprovingly. 

“I still don't know,” he says, even as he's sinking his first two fingers into John's ass. John gasps audibly, arching back into it. “You're fucking up an awful lot.” Brian leans down to speak in his ear again. “Does reading bible verses in front of the archbishop make the little altar boy nervous?” he whispers teasingly. John's just staring at the page now, through it, and he can practically hear the sneer in Brian's voice, the way his lips are pulling back around his teeth, the way his eyes were probably glinting in amusement at John's reaction to his words.

“God, yes,” John whines, his fingers clutching the bible. Brian barks out a laugh. 

“Are you talking to God now?” he remarks, fingers fucking into him. He grabs John's hair with his free hand, wrenching his head up so he's forced to look at the ceiling. “Go ahead. Pray to God to get fucked. Tell God all about how bad you want to get pounded, if you wanna talk to him so bad.”

“God, please,” John whimpers, and Brian grins, angling his fingers just right. "I want to get fucked so bad. I want his cock in my ass right fucking now. I want to be used like a fuckin' whore. I want to be a sinner. _Fuck._ ” Brian lets go of John's hair and knees John's legs further apart. If this is performance art, Brian's thinking, then this is one of his best pieces. 

“I guess the power of prayer really is real,” he remarks, as he replaces his fingers with his cock. “Don't you fucking dare cum until I say you can.” John doesn't even fall forward, just holds his arch as he pushes himself back down onto Brian's full length. Brian doesn't let him get comfortable. He just holds onto that pretty blonde hair, finding a quick and rough pace. John grabs onto the headboard as Brian fucks him, the bible mostly forgotten underneath them. Brian sits back on his heels, pulling John back with him so they're both on their knees. “Put your fucking hands together and fucking pray I'm gonna let you cum,” he says, grabbing John's throat and choking him anyway. He loves hearing John try to squeeze a few words out between breaths. That's probably Brian's favorite thing about fucking John. He's always so goddamn eager to please. John clasps his shaky hands together in front of his chest, weakly gasping out some semblance of a prayer.

“Please,” John grits out through clenched teeth and Brian's grip, “God, please let me cum.” 

“You're gonna cum on those fucking pages,” Brian says, voice low, fingers going from John's throat to his cock. He's letting John do most of the work, just holding his fist there and letting him fuck up into it as he's riding his cock. “And then I'm gonna fucking cum in that pretty little ass. And then that fucking bible is going back in that fucking drawer so I don't have to fucking look at it for the rest of the night. Understood?”

“Yes, god, yes,” John moans, his entire body fighting between dicking up into Brian's fist or sinking down onto his cock. “Please, please, can I cum? Fuck, I need to cum, please, God, please.” Brian isn't sure if John's talking to him or God anymore. He can feel him tensing up against him, his cock going impossibly harder in his hand. Not to mention the fact that Brian really wants to get off for himself. 

“Fucking cum,” Brian says, gripping him a little tighter, his other hand digging nails into his side. “And thank God for letting you do it.”

John practically sobs in relief, his head falling back onto Brian's shoulder as he cums, hands still clasped tight together as he spills messily onto the open pages of the bible, the bed, and Brian's fingers. He rides out his orgasm on Brian's cock, just repeating “thank you thank you thank you” over and over, to God or Brian, though they're practically the same thing to him in the moment. Brian growls softly, pushing his cummed on fingers into John's mouth and using his other hand to hold his hips still. He just dicks up into him fucking mercilessly, nails digging red lines into John's skin, till he finally falls over the edge, spilling inside of him and swearing through gritted teeth. Brian just holds him there for a moment while he comes down, sliding the wet fingers from John's mouth.

There's a pretty long moment, after John has laid down on the bed next to the thoroughly ruined bible, that maybe they both think they've crossed a line. If they do, neither of them say anything. Brian picks up the book.

“You came on a Leviticus page,” Brian says. “I appreciate the irony.” He tears out a clean page and mops up the rest of John's mess before tossing the ripped out pages and the ruined book back into the drawer from where they came and slamming it shut. “Fuck that stupid shitty book,” he mumbles, shrugging the archbishop's robe off.

“I think I'll have to read the bible some more,” John remarks.

“Don't,” Brian says, rubbing his forehead. “At least not till we're out of the bible belt. For the sake of my own sanity.” He pauses, looks at the robe on the bed behind him. “I mean. I guess I could keep the archbishop robe on hand more often.”


End file.
